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Preordering's Evolution into Convolution

Sometimes, it feels like identifying as a PC gamer means being that guy, the dude who rains on everybody's parade with copious "back in my day" complaints. Back in my day, RPGs had more numbers. Back in my day, Q and E let me lean around corners. Back in my day, we had to install games using 16 discs out in the cold snow while surrounded by starving wolverines, and we liked it. But sometimes, those musty memories of times gone by have merit. Case in point: Back in my day, games didn't come in 11 billion different preorder-driven "special" editions. Or deluxe editions. Or [insert clever reference to the game here] editions. And make no mistake: this is a problem.

Fancy armor. But where do I have to go to get it?

But we of the GameSpy cyborg-ninja clan are PC gamers. If you cut us, we bleed high-speed Internet connections and Steam download codes. Also candy. So what are policies devised to ward off the looming specter of second-hand console game sales doing in our parts, where such sales are all but extinct due to the rise of Steam and its competitors? The short version is: a port's a port. As such, developers and publishers see no reason to change things for our benefit.

Pre-ordering exclusives are our confusing new nemesis as gamers.

Unsurprisingly, then, retail continues to drive the system, which brings us to our confusing new nemesis: preorder-based retail exclusives and their multitude of in-game bonuses. And while it's easy to paint a target on this practice's back for allegedly running games through the sawmill and handing us the bloody pieces, that part's actually pretty murky. After all, is it really sensible to get upset in the case of something like, say, Borderlands 2? Yes, it ended up a veritable loot pinata of preorder-based bits, but Gearbox's 87-bazillion-gun-powered shoot 'n' loot was positively massive and well worth the $60 all on its lonesome.

No, the real issue right now is escalation. Let's go back to Borderlands, for example. A normal preorder got players a luck-boosting Vault Hunter's Relic, a special chest key, and a unique gun pack, all straight out the gate -- and eventual access to the pet-based (and by "pet," I mean colossal murder machine) Mechromancer class. But if those same players were brave (or perhaps foolhardy) enough to assault GameStop's bandit-ridden wastes, they'd also come away with a horde-mode-like Creature Slaughter Dome -- easily the most substantial of BL2's day-one offerings. Otherwise, they'd have to wait a little while and purchase the dome separately for $4.99.

Gaige was fun, but was also a symptom of preorder madness.

Still though, that's simple enough in the grand scheme of things. But that's also only the beginning. It becomes truly problematic, however, when something like Darksiders 2 enters the equation. Attempting to comprehend Darksiders 2's selection was like looking at a meticulously arranged puzzle that'd just been knocked off a table. By a charging rhinoceros. Pieces went flying in every possible direction. Want the cool-looking Shadow of Death armor for free? Pre-order the collector's edition. Want the scythe-upgrading Angel of Death set? Make your purchase at Best Buy. A permanent speed boost for Death's horse? Try Amazon, for all your ethereal horse steroid-injecting needs. Pre-orderers got their copies upgraded to collector's editions, which guaranteed them the eventual Argul's Tomb DLC episode for free, but they could also do that one better by pre-ordering from GameStop and nabbing Death Rides and its "multiple exclusive side-quests."

A season pass ought to bundle everything up, right? Nope!

Is your head about ready to explode? Are you wishing Death would come and lop the poor, information-overloaded thing right off in an act of sweet mercy? Well, a season pass ought to help bundle up all these $1, $2, and $7 expenditures and put a nice bow on top, right? Nope. For instance, it only covered the Maker's armor and scythe sets if you preordered directly from THQ. So basically, no matter what you did -- no matter where you made your purchase or how far in advance -- there were still other purchases to be made.

Assassin's Creed III, though, might just take the star-spangled consumerist cake. "Sorry, what?" it replies to all challengers. "I couldn't hear you over my six different editions, season pass, and various other transactions." For instance, there's the multi-act Ghost of War episode, which was only available to those who pre-ordered the Freedom Edition, Join or Die Edition, or Deluxe Edition. Or there's "A Dangerous Secret," which was restricted to the Special Edition. Or, if multiplayer's more your thing, the Join or Die and Freedom editions might be more up your alley.

Assassin's Creed might be the worst offender here.

What's the difference between all of those? Even after doing heaps of research, I'm not entirely sure. But there are actual charts for this stuff. A Dangerous Secret, meanwhile, only comes with the Special Edition. Why is there a Special Edition and a Deluxe Edition? Why, Ubisoft? Whyyyyyyyy? And that's only the beginning on the single-player front. The end result is that it felt like my $60 game arrived in pieces. Fortunately, there is at least a dim light at the end of this particular tunnel. When Ubisoft finally released all of this DLC outside of Special Octahedral Prepare For Trouble And Make It Double editions, it crammed everything into one bundle on Steam. So that's something, at least. Hopefully more publishers will follow suit.

Modern pre-ordering is overkill, plain and simple.

By and large, though it's a maddening practice. Are publishers well within their rights to divvy up content between various versions of a game? Absolutely. But when the purchasing process is akin to navigating the world's winding-est labyrinth while a minotaur is hot on our heels, it just becomes painful. It's overkill -- plain and simple. And because of it, we, the players, have to spend far too much time figuring out how to get exactly what we want instead of just, you know, enjoying our games. Meanwhile, publishers trumpet season passes and things like that as part of their vision of "games as a service." But who does this serve, honestly? I mean, sure, season passes do make things simpler, but only because publishers are creating unnecessary layers of convolution in the first place.

Sadly, they also have a vested interest in continuing to do so. After all, this practice drives preorder numbers, creates stronger relationships with various retailers, and even encourages them to more heavily promote the games in question. Win-win-win, from a business standpoint. But at the moment, that means players get caught in the crossfire. And as PC gamers, we probably get the shortest end of the stick, given that all this retailer madness barely applies to most of us. No, it's not the end of the world. More often than not, we still get plenty of bang for our buck without downloading every scrap of content that comes trickling out of the DLC machine. But it's certainly not an ideal situation, and, if nothing else, we should do our best to communicate that we want better.

Do you still like having different options based on your choice of retailer? Or does the brain-hurting amount of options make you more likely to avoid pre-ordering altogether?